Don't Break This Kiss (Top Shelf Romance Book 5)

by Jessica Hawkins

  He tilted his head. “Is that what they say about you?”

  “Go to hell.” She didn’t have much dignity left, but she wasn’t willing to give him every last piece of it. “I can’t do this.”

  The table was silent. She didn’t wait to see if Johnny would follow. With one last look at Beau, and a moment of wondering what could’ve been had she met him at a different time, or maybe even had he not made his offer, but had come back to the bar a second time—with that last look, she walked away.

  As soon as she reached the door and her hand was closed around the handle, though, Beau spoke again.

  “A million dollars.”

  It wasn’t possible she’d heard him correctly. In her worked-up, jittery state, her mind had to be playing tricks on her. Beau had no reason to double the amount when he’d been so opposed to eight hundred thousand. She glanced back over her shoulder. Johnny had frozen, his eyes doubled in size.

  Beau’s fingers were steepled in front of him and the corner of his mouth curled into a slight smile. “One night. One million dollars. And that’s my final offer.”

  Chapter 8

  Johnny cupped Lola’s upturned face. He kissed her forehead. “You look terrible.”

  “That’s the plan, isn’t it?” With a shaky inhalation, she put a smile on her face. Johnny had been surprisingly strong since they’d left Beau’s office the day before—for her. She could do the same for him.

  “What about the black circles under your eyes?” he asked. “Are they part of the plan?” This time he kissed the top of her head. “You look great to me, anyway. Maybe he won’t think so.”

  Johnny hugged her face to his chest. He’d just gotten out of the shower and smelled like soap. His ratty sneakers sat by the front door next to an empty space where she always left her Converse. Usually their shoes came and went together. She tried to look away, but Johnny held her tightly. She couldn’t afford to get sentimental about sneakers. It wasn’t like this was the first night they’d ever spent apart.

  “I love you,” she said. Now that the decision had been made, there was a sense of relief between them, and with that they’d made peace. “We’ll get through this.”

  “I’d never let you go if I thought differently,” Johnny said. “It means nothing. I’ll go to work like any other night. You’ll come home to me in the morning. End of story.”

  “You forgot the part about how we’re a million dollars richer afterward.”

  “We’re already halfway there,” he said.

  Lola had that fight or flight feeling she always got before a big change in her life. The night she’d started at Hey Joe, she’d begged Johnny to let her go back to her old job and her old friends. At the time, that life had seemed easier than starting over. But even though it was because of Johnny’s ultimatum, she’d made the decision to leave all that behind. Still, that hadn’t meant it was easy.

  She looked up at Johnny without pulling away an inch. “We could be in Vegas by midnight. We already have five hundred grand. Start over.”

  He smiled. “We could take that fake road trip we planned last year. With nowhere to be, it wouldn’t matter how long it took. Break out the camping gear—”

  A knock on the door interrupted him. Lola squeezed Johnny closer. “I don’t want to leave you alone.”

  “I’ll be fine.”

  “You will?”

  He shook his head. “No, but it’s only a night, right? Work will be kind of busy since it’s Friday. It’ll keep me distracted.”

  The knock came again.

  “Will you check in with Mitch? He can’t make any decisions until he hears our offer.”

  “He’ll wait.” He pushed a loose strand of her hair behind her ear and kissed her, lingering against her lips. “Lola,” he whispered. “Don’t kiss him like this. Promise me.”

  She let him clutch her another moment. She was about to step into a world where she had no jurisdiction over her own body. No matter how badly she wanted to, she couldn’t make Johnny that promise. “I’ll try.”

  He tensed when there was more rapping on the door. “Love you too,” he said.

  Lola was just going to slip out, but Johnny opened the door all the way. On their welcome mat stood a suited man who wasn’t Beau, but who didn’t look much older than him. He gestured behind him. “Good evening, Miss Winters. I’m Mr. Olivier’s driver. He’s waiting in the car.”

  Lola shielded her eyes and followed the man without looking back. At the curb, a limousine idled. As they approached it, the sun disappeared behind the apartment building across the street.

  The back window rolled down. Beau’s hair was styled in a wave tonight—smoother and darker from product and away from his face. It made his green eyes clearer. He was perfectly put together except for a noticeable layer of stubble. The contrast only made him more attractive.

  “Last chance, Lola,” he said, looking up at her. He was being playful. “You can still turn around.”

  She stared, unblinking, unflinching and showed him the papers clutched in her hand. “The tests you requested.”

  He took them through the window, read them over and smiled. “He’s thorough, isn’t he?”

  “Very.” After her tense afternoon with Beau and Johnny in the conference room, Beau’s doctor had been kind and gentle with her. He’d even insisted on giving her a check-up.

  “Warner, please get the door for Miss Winters.”

  “Certainly, sir.” He stepped past Lola to let her in.

  The limo had champagne and other spirits, but champagne was the only thing she could stomach. She sipped it to calm her nerves after reviewing Beau’s test results.

  “I admire your effort,” Beau said, “but it isn’t working.”

  She moved the glass from her mouth. “I’m sorry?”

  “Are those Johnny’s jeans?”

  She looked down at the faded, oversized pants. “Johnny’s jeans wouldn’t fit me,” she said, offended. “They’re from Goodwill. It’s this place where—”

  “I’m familiar with Goodwill, thank you.”

  She rolled her lips together, pleased she’d hit a nerve. She covered her smile by taking another sip of her drink.

  “I’m not buying the act,” Beau said. “I know you’re intentionally trying to make yourself unattractive.”

  “Do you always call your dates ugly right off the bat?”

  “I’m saying the opposite, actually. Old jeans and no makeup can’t detract from your beauty.” He studied her. “But my guess is you already knew that.”

  Whether she’d known it or not, she couldn’t help feeling flattered—even as she reminded herself that in the short time she’d known him, he’d never lacked the ability to charm.

  “The only thing I won’t let fly is your hair like that,” he said.

  It was a mild request. She didn’t argue. She undid her ponytail, and her hair fell all at once around her shoulders.

  “Better,” he said.

  She looked out the window since the divider had been rolled up, blocking her view of the road. “Are we going to your place?”

  “No.”

  She turned to him. “A hotel?”

  “We have a room for the night, yes.”

  A hotel was good—it meant there’d be people around. “Where is it?”

  “Beverly Hills.” He paused. “Is that all right with you?”

  She’d never stayed in a hotel in Los Angeles since she had no reason to. She’d certainly never stayed anywhere as upscale as Beverly Hills. “Is your house under renovation or something?”

  “We’d be more comfortable at a hotel.”

  Lola looked around the limo. There’d been no mention of where he lived in her research. Her heart plummeted when she realized the most obvious reason he wouldn’t want her in his home. She turned back to him.

  “I’m not married,” he said.

  “How’d you know I was going to ask that?”

  “I watched it play out on yo
ur face,” he said. “I like that you’re expressive.”

  She ignored that. “Girlfriend?”

  “Completely unattached. I promise.”

  She wondered if her relief also played out on her face. Beau had chosen her, had orchestrated all this for her, and if nothing else, Lola would allow herself to feel special about that tonight. The only thing that could take that away would be another woman. “Will we be there soon?”

  Beau let her question hang in the air a moment. “Do you want to be there soon?” he asked.

  It was a blunt question delivered bluntly. Her answer didn’t matter—it wouldn’t change the course of her night. It was almost impossible to lie to him, looking as handsome as he did in his tuxedo. He was tall and obviously well built, but was he as hard underneath as he was on the outside? Was he strong? If they had sex against a wall, how long could he hold her up? “No,” she said quickly to cover up that last thought. “It all just sounds very top secret.”

  “It isn’t,” he said. “You’re just asking the wrong questions. We’re going to a gala.”

  “A what?” The tuxedo. She’d been so caught up in herself that she hadn’t stopped to wonder why he was wearing one.

  “A black-tie gala to benefit the L.A. Philharmonic. I needed a date. That’s why I picked tonight for us.”

  She pulled on the hem of her vintage concert tee. “But I’m not dressed for that.”

  “Thank God you agree. You can wear that if you want, but I prefer not to spend the night looking at Stevie Nicks and her yellow hair.”

  Lola scrambled. “I wish you’d told me. I can find something more appropriate if you take me back.”

  “That won’t be necessary. I didn’t tell you to dress up because I planned a little extra time for shopping.”

  “I didn’t realize…I thought we would just—”

  “Fuck?”

  Lola’s breath caught. If Johnny ever spoke to her that way, it wasn’t in broad daylight, outside the heat of the moment. “Honestly,” she said, swallowing back her surprise, “it wouldn’t take me long to run into my apartment. I only have one dress that would—”

  “I’d be a madman to take you back now that I have you.”

  Lola shut her mouth. He was becoming bolder, catching her off guard more. “You will, though, won’t you?” she asked quietly, not entirely sure he’d say yes. “Take me home?”

  “In the morning, as promised. But not a minute sooner.” He moved the test results from between them to the floor and placed his arm along the back of the seat. “First we’ll go shopping. You’ll wear what I select for you, and I’ll pay for it.”

  “I’m not comfortable with that. It’s not part of the deal. I can buy my own clothing.”

  He zapped her conviction with a look. “In case it needs to be reiterated, Lola, I always say what I mean. Nothing is open to discussion. And since you’ve promised yourself over to me for the next twelve or so hours, make this easy for us both and comply.”

  “If you were looking for a woman who’d just comply, I don’t think I’d be here right now.”

  His eyes narrowed. “What makes you say that?”

  “A man like you would have no problems finding willing women. You want someone unwilling. Someone you have to work for. You think I’m trashy, maybe a little wild, and that does something for you. I understand.” For the first time since she’d met Beau, Lola felt in control. The look on his face and the quickening of his breath gave him away. He leaned into her as if he didn’t even realize he was doing it. “If you tell me exactly what you’re looking for,” she said, “I can play that part for you. I’ve done it before.”

  “You’ve done what before?” he asked, hardly even blinking.

  “Been someone’s fantasy.”

  “Not their reality, though.” He’d slid over in the seat, far enough that he’d have to reach to kiss her, but still close.

  “No.”

  “I want the reality. You. Just you.”

  She lifted one shoulder. “You have me. My body’s already yours. If it’s not enough, tell me what to be.”

  “I made myself clear on this already. This is about you, Lola. Not just what’s underneath those jeans and T-shirt. I won’t accept anything less than everything from you tonight.”

  She shook her head coyly. “My body is one thing, the rest of me is another. What you paid for is only what’s underneath these jeans and T-shirt.”

  The car slowed to a stop. Beau straightened up abruptly. “You’re wrong. That’s not what we agreed on.” He looked away from her and opened the door before the driver could.

  Lola took Beau’s hand and unfolded out of the car. Palm trees framed the tall windows of the marble storefront, which displayed smartly dressed mannequins. “I hate to tell you this,” Lola said, “but these shops are closed.”

  He put his hand on her upper back, trapping the ends of her hair. “Not for us,” he said, guiding her forward. The brass-handled, glass doors opened with his words.

  “You must be Lola,” said a slick-haired blonde saleswoman, outstretching her hand. “I understand it’s an important night for you.”

  Another woman appeared with two glasses of champagne.

  “Is that what he told you?” Lola asked, taking a drink.

  “Lola,” Beau warned. “Don’t pretend your thirtieth birthday dinner is just another night.”

  The saleswoman smiled. “Well, you’re in good hands with us.” Both women disappeared somewhere into the pristine, bone-and-black-lacquer interior.

  “It’s not even close to my birthday,” Lola said. “Why the subterfuge?”

  “It’s fun to watch you squirm.”

  “Well, if we’re playing games, could I not be thirty already? How would you like if I went around telling people you’re forty when you’re not for a few more years?”

  How he smiled at that, crooked-lipped and dimple-deep—as if it were the best thing he’d heard in a while. “Did a little research on me, I see.”

  “Don’t be flattered—”

  “I wouldn’t dream of it.”

  “It was only to make sure you weren’t wanted for murder or something. I’m still not entirely convinced you aren’t.”

  “Well.” His smile only widened. “I’m glad you decided to put your life in my hands anyway. Funny how a little money turns the other cheek.”

  She followed Beau to the back of the store, frustrated at her lack of comeback.

  He stopped at a clothing rack. “Here are the things I’ve preselected. I’d like to see them all on you.”

  “For one evening?” She balked at the price tag. “Some of these cost more than my month’s rent.” She flipped it over. “Make that two months.”

  “While you’re with me, you’ll be dressed the part—every hour, every minute.” He took her champagne glass from her. “I’ll refill your drink. You can change around the corner.”

  She picked up the first dress and took it to the fitting room, holding it away from her as though it might break. It was lovely and expensive. She hated it. The high neck and gathered fabric along one side was completely out of line with her taste.

  Just as she’d stripped down to her underwear, he knocked. She glanced at the door. Beau might be proving difficult to decode, but Lola was sure about one thing—he liked power. Control. He fed on weakness—in a single bite—and it made him stronger.

  Lola wasn’t weak, though. She’d let Beau do the biting, but just enough to keep him satisfied and no more. It’d been a while since she’d had the attention of a man like Beau, but she had, and she hadn’t forgotten this game.

  Lola opened the door wide. She slid her hand up along the edge and cocked her hip just enough for him to notice. “You knocked?”

  He schooled his expression in one quick second, but not before Lola caught his surprise. His slow gaze drifted down her neck, past her wide-strapped, sea-foam-green bra, over her naked stomach to her mismatched, oversized panties.

  �
�Stubborn right down to her underwear,” Beau said, more amused than annoyed.

  “It’s laundry day.” Lola shrugged. “My less modest things are—well, probably in Johnny’s hands as we speak since it’s his week to do the wash.”

  “Good thing they carry lingerie here,” he said, less amused.

  “Oh, don’t waste another dollar on me. I’m fine with this if you are.”

  He smiled thinly. “I’m not. As I said, you’re to dress the part every hour, every minute. That includes our time alone.” He passed her a fresh glass of champagne. “I’ll take care of it, but for now, I’ll be outside your door. Talk to me while you change.”

  She shut herself into the fitting room and went to lock it but didn’t bother. If Beau wanted to come in, he would. Wouldn’t he? It’d been almost an hour and he hadn’t made any move to touch her yet. When he did, would she like it? Could she enjoy being touched by Beau when she loved someone else? She shivered and passed her hands over her biceps. “What do you want to talk about?”

  “Have you ever been here?”

  “Rodeo Drive? Sure.” She removed the dress gingerly from the hanger. Despite her feelings about it, it was still a beautiful piece of clothing. “Mostly to walk around. Truth be told, it isn’t really my style.”

  “No, I don’t suppose there’s a lot of leather here.”

  “You don’t like the leather?” she asked, smiling a little to herself.

  “I didn’t say that. What are you doing now?”

  She looked down. “Pulling on the dress.”

  After a moment, he asked, “How about now?”

  “The dress is tight, so it’s taking a minute to get on. What are you doing?”

  Beau laughed. “Well, now I’m picturing you struggling with a tight dress. Something I look forward to seeing later.”

  “Later?” Lola had expected to be in his bed by now, but his behavior bordered on gentlemanly. Curiosity urged her closer to the door. “Not now?”

  He didn’t respond right away. “No,” he said. “Now I’m using my imagination.”